Unspeakable Sin
by precibus
Summary: *spoilers for S4, AU from S4E3 onwards* "Suppose you're with child, what will you do then?" "I'll kill myself." The unthinkable has happened: weeks on from the concert, Anna realises that her greatest fear has come true. (M rated and trigger warning)
1. Chapter 1

**Fic title:** Unspeakable Sin

**Fic summary:** *spoilers for S4, AU from S3E4 onwards* "Suppose you're with child, what will you do then?" "I'll kill myself." The unthinkable has happened: weeks on from the concert, Anna realises that her greatest fear has come true. (M rated and trigger warning)

When I watched S4E4 I was convinced that conversation was foreshadowing a very different storyline from the one we saw play out. I'm very relieved the story went in a different direction, but on a particularly rough day, I rewatched it and a little "what if" lodged itself in my head. This is the result.

**Disclaimer:** I wish I owned Downton Abbey, but that priviledge belongs to Julian Fellowes and ITV

Anna walked slowly down the servants' staircase, hoping against hope that her stomach would not betray her during breakfast. If she timed her arrival right, she would arrive in the servants' hall after the strong-smelling porridge had been cleared away, and if she were lucky, she would be able to choke down a slice of toast before Lady Mary's bell summoned her. But first, there was another hurdle to negotiate.

"Good morning, Anna."

"Good morning, Mr. Bates," she replied, concentrating on getting the words out without a tremor in her voice, and focusing on a smudge on the wall behind him to avoid having to meet his gaze. She couldn't, simply _couldn't_, see the pain and confusion in his eyes –she knew that one look at those dark eyes would be all it would take for her to give in to tears. After a sleepless night marked by nightmares and worry, she wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms, spill her secrets out to him and have him make everything better –just like she used to do before –but she knew that wasn't possible, especially not now. If there had been even a slim chance before that he would be willing to forgive her and take her back, spoiled as she was, the changes in her body over the past three weeks had put paid to that.

She edged gingerly past him and walked into the bustling hall, leaving his pleading "Anna, please tell me..." trailing in the air behind her. Before Mr. Bates –she no longer felt she had the right to call him John, as if using his Christian name would pollute him –could follow her into the hall, His Lordship's bell rang for him.

"Daisy, could you save me some breakfast?" she heard him ask as he removed his coat and hat a few feet behind her.

_Have you not had breakfast?_ she wanted to turn and ask him, scan his face for signs of peakiness or possible illness, but made an effort not to. He didn't need her concern, could manage perfectly well without her.

Lady Mary seemed lost in her thoughts that morning, and Anna was grateful for the silence as she worked on preparing her Ladyship for the day. It was easier to focus on her tasks when she didn't have to balance speaking with choking down the nausea that had started to creep up on her a couple of hours after waking.

"Anna," Lady Mary began as Anna started putting her hair up, jolting her out of her reverie, "are you sure you are up to this today?"

"Of course I am, my Lady," Anna answered, but as she caught a glimpse of herself in Lady Mary's ornate mirror, she could see why her Ladyship had asked. Her face was ghost pale and her eyes appeared sunken in. If she were honest with herself, her whole face appeared hollow, with her cheek and jaw bones more prominent than usual. "I'm still a little under the weather," she volunteered, feeling that her Ladyship's concern merited a more forthcoming response.

"Still ill? It's been a few weeks, maybe you should see Clarkson?"

"I am going to, my Lady," Anna admitted. "Will that be all for this morning?" she asked, suddenly desperate to leave the room before Lady Mark asked any more questions. Hard as it was to block Mr. Bates' questions, it was even harder to politely deflect Lady Mary's questions, and it was only a matter of time before Lady Mary asked her more directly –or sought answers from someone else downstairs.

"I think so," Lady Mary answered, still looking searchingly at Anna's reflection in the mirror. "Only –Anna, if you are ill or in any difficulties, you will come to me, won't you?"

Anna agreed and reassured Lady Mary once again that she was sure she was fine, hard as it was to lie. Sometimes she wondered whether things would have been different if Mr. Green hadn't been Lord Gillingham's valet. Maybe it would have been possible to admit her shame to the perceptive Lady Mary if said shame would not also by association tarnish Lord Gillingham in Lady Mary's eyes? Anna shook her head fiercely to get rid of the question in her mind. Dwelling on doubts was pointless now. Nothing would change, and the last thing she needed was to start thinking about giving in and confessing her secret and her fear to someone. She had even started avoiding Mrs. Hughes ever since their conversation when Anna had asked to move back into her old room.

As Anna sat in the sewing room with one of Lady Mary's torn gowns, tears overcame her and she turned her back to the door in case Madge or Baxter should come in unexpectedly. That brief exchange in Mrs. Hughes' office had been replaying itself over and over in her mind.

_"__What if you're with child?"_

Anna's answer had been instant, but in no way unconsidered. It had been the first thing on her mind as she walked back to the cottage alone –the insidious fear that Green's child could be taking root in her body. That was one betrayal John –Mr. Bates, she had to remind herself –that Mr. Bates would never be able to forgive. There had been nights, when she wanted nothing more than to run back to the cottage and beg him for forgiveness for somehow leading Green on, that she thought about coming clean to him, admitting that she had somehow caused the attack and asking for his forgiveness, but any chance of all that had vanished now. First had come the waves of nausea and weakness, then the complete absence of a cycle for weeks after the attack, until she finally had to acknowledge that the unthinkable had happened: in months of love, she and Mr. Bates had been unable to create a child together, but in minutes of pain, shame and terror, Mr. Green had.

Mrs. Hughes' reply of _I won't listen to that_ had extinguished any chance of Anna's going to her with this secret. She wouldn't understand, wouldn't see that in Anna's eyes, this was a fate worse than death, that she could never face Mr. Bates with the consequences of her betrayal. No matter how many times Mrs. Hughes had tried to reassure her that she had done nothing wrong, that she bore no fault for Green's attack, Anna could not believe it. Somehow she had made it happen, somehow Green had been able to see that she was bad inside and deserved it. Sometimes she wondered if the attack was her punishment, possibly for having lustful thoughts about Mr. Bates prior to their marriage, for throwing herself at him like a common whore?

No, she couldn't go to Mrs. Hughes with this. Anna was terrified that Mrs. Hughes would tell Mr. Bates about the child growing inside her, would convince him that it was the anxiety over the pregnancy that had led Anna to move back temporarily to the Abbey. Anyone could work out what Mrs. Hughes would hope to accomplish with that: Mr. Bates would be thrilled, Anna would have to move back into the cottage and play happy families with a Baby Bates.

Tears were falling hard and fast onto Lady Mary's lilac gown and Anna pushed it away from her, dropped her needle and buried her face in her hands. She couldn't subject Mr. Bates to that, couldn't live a lie with him. And the child might look like Green, every day she would have to face it and be reminded, as if her nightmares weren't reminder enough.

Anna left the house for her half-day off before luncheon was served in the servants' hall and was at the hospital waiting for Dr. Clarkson by 1pm. Her hands clutched tightly on her bag to keep them from trembling, she tried to avoid meeting anyone's eyes, afraid that her secret was visible on her face for all to see.

In response to Dr. Clarkson's almost jovial "Mrs. Bates, what can I do for you today?" she spilled out her fear, fighting hard not to break down as she had to say the dreaded words _with child_ and went anxiously through with his examination.

"Congratulations," Dr. Clarkson smiled, and Anna had to bite her lip not to burst into tears again. All along, she had been nursing a tiny hope that maybe she was mistaken all along, which Dr. Clarkson had now dismissed.

"Is this not welcome news, Anna?" Dr. Clarkson asked when he noticed Anna's reaction to his words.

"It is," Anna lied –the last thing she needed was Dr. Clarkson suspecting anything. "Just overwhelming –and unexpected."

She left the hospital with Dr. Clarkson's parting reassurances that it appeared to be a perfectly healthy pregnancy ringing in her ears. His estimate that the child would be born around Christmas-time seemed to mock her. She had elicited from Clarkson a reassurance that he would not mention this to anyone from the Abbey yet –"I need time to come to terms with the news before I tell anyone," she had lied –so her secret was safe on the off-chance that Dr. Clarkson ran into Mr. Bates or Mrs. Hughes.

As she walked slowly back to Downton, her plan began to solidify itself. There was no question of tricking Mr. Bates into believing that the child was his, she loved him too much to trick him into that. Equally, there was no chance that she could hide her pregnancy from everyone and give the child away.

By the time Anna had reached the Abbey, her mind was made up. She could not carry and give birth to Green's child.

The thought of using arsenic flitted briefly through her mind but she immediately dismissed the idea. Painful as her loss would be for Mr. Bates to bear, it would be bearable if she left him a letter confessing, explaining and begging forgiveness, but after Vera, using arsenic would be too much to inflict on him.

A conversation that she had overheard as an impressionable child between two of the dairymaids at her parents' farm resurfaced in her mind.

_"__Heard she used a coat hanger. Killed the child, which was what she wanted, but killed her too,"_ Hester had whispered ghoulishly to Nan. As a child, she hadn't been able to fathom the logistics of it, but along with other pieced-together scraps of information as a young adult, and later as a married woman, she now understood it perfectly well.

_You have no other choice_, she told herself firmly. Her vision was so blurry from tears that she stumbled on a stone on the path leading to the Abby, banging her knees and hands and skinning them badly. She laughed cynically at herself when she winced at the pain as she cautiously prodded the sore spot on her knee. She had been put through worse pain, and she was no fool, she knew she was going to put herself through far more pain, unimaginable pain, later. The thought of the pain, of the loneliness, brought the tears back to her eyes and she began to shake uncontrollably with fear and doubt.

**_This will be a multi-chapter fic. Reviews really appreciated, especially since I'm not sure how this will be received._**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own Downton

**Trigger warning**: This chapter is the most triggering of the whole fic, the coming chapters will not be. If you find descriptions of attempted suicide disturbing, skip the second-to-last section.

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She was within sight of the Abbey when she realised it was still very early to return. Retracing her steps, she walked slowly back to the village, letting her feet carry her almost on autopilot –not realising until she was standing in front of the church that this was where she had intended to visit all along. The church had been her sanctuary during both of Mr. Bates' prolonged absences, and it felt, sounded and smelled exactly as it had during those long-ago months when it felt like her world was coming apart at the seams.

Back then, she had visited the church to pray for Mr. Bates' return... that day, as she knelt down at the back of the deserted church, she prayed to a God who now seemed vindictive, pleading with Him to forgive her for the sins she was contemplating, and to give Mr. Bates the strength to carry on without her.

Sin. Unspeakable sin. The realisation that she was about to do something against the laws of both man and God made her stomach lurch and she bolted from the church and retched in the shadows of the church parvis.

_I never asked for any of this to happen._ It seemed like this was all part of a chain of events which had been set in motion long ago that she had been powerless to stop. Mr. Matthew's death, Lord Gillingham's arrival at the house party organised to lift Lady Mary's spirits, with Mr. Green in tow. The concert, the attack –she could never refer to it as anything else, not even to herself –and now this parasitic being growing inside her.

_It's unforgivable, but there's no other way. _Hoping that sinning out of necessity rather than choice counted for something in the eyes of God, she stepped out of the darkness and began picking her way carefully through the churchyard, not wanting to risk another fall. She was so focused on the steps she was taking across the mossy stones that she almost collided with Mrs. Crawley, who was on her way in.

"Anna? What are you doing here?" Mrs. Crawley asked in surprise once they had both apologised and collected themselves.

"Sometimes I come here to think," Anna replied vaguely. "Away from all the hustle and bustle at the Abbey."

As she walked past the gravestones: William's, Miss Swire's, Lady Sybil's, Mr. Matthews, the realisation that she would soon be placed in the ground too, although not here with them, not on this hallowed ground, hit her and she had to stifle a sob, not noticing that Mrs. Crawley's eyes were still on her. Soothing as it was to think that the pain, the nightmares and memories of Mr. Green on her would soon be gone, it was painful to think that she would be leaving everything else behind her too.

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She couldn't face sitting at the table with the other servants for dinner. Just the thought of sitting next to Mr. Bates and Mrs. Hughes for the last time, knowing it would be the last time and unable to tell them, made her throat close up and she was afraid she wouldn't be able to keep her composure. If she cried at dinner, if she acted at all different, they might start to suspect something.

"You're back early," Mrs. Hughes observed when Anna walked back into the servants' hall, pale and exhausted after her long traipse round the village.

"I just went for a walk, thought the fresh air might help ease my headache," Anna explained. "It didn't work, though."

"You don't look very well," Mrs. Hughes agreed, reaching out to draw Anna further into the warmth of the hall. Anna looked worse than she had before she left: her eyes were red-rimmed, her face paler and she seemed unable to keep herself from shivering, although there wasn't much of a chill in the air.

"Maybe you should go and lie down," Mrs. Hughes suggested. "I could send you up a tray later on if you don't feel up to eating with the rest of us."

"No thank you," Anna politely refused the offer of a tray. "I'm sure I just need a couple of extra hours' sleep, and I'll wake up right as rain for breakfast." Mrs. Hughes was being so kind to her lately, but she wouldn't be if she knew what evil was festering inside Anna. For the first time, a pang of guilt shot through Anna as she thought of what she would be putting Mrs. Hughes through tomorrow –much as she was trying not to think about it, her imagination was giving her an all-too-vivid image of what Mrs. Hughes would find when she came into Anna's room to see why she hadn't come down for breakfast. She resolutely pushed the thought away. Sparing Mr. Bates was the priority here.

"I'll say goodnight then, Mrs. Hughes. And I'm sorry for all the trouble I've been putting you through." She didn't dare say more.

Mr. Bates entered the hall for dinner as she spoke, and his eyebrows raised at her mention of trouble. Anna ducked her head to avoid meeting his searching gaze.

"I'll be staying late tonight, Mrs. Hughes," she heard Mr. Bates say. "His Lordship won't want to be dressed for bed until well after dinner."

How she wished she could wait for him, could walk to the cottage with him, snuggle next to him and share his warmth, feel safe and protected in his arms. Instead, she was going up to a cold empty room, with plans to commit an unspeakable atrocity upon her own body.

Declining Mrs. Hughes' suggestion of a powder for her headache, and assuring everyone that all she needed was an undisturbed night of sleep, she bade everyone goodnight, wishing she could say a proper goodbye to Mr. Bates, rather than a hurried "goodnight."

Refusing to consider any other actions: she couldn't trick Mr. Bates, and she couldn't tell him the truth and risk him hanging, she tried to walk up the staircase normally: no lingering looks, no parting squeeze of the hand. _No other choice_, she reminded herself. Once he knew the truth, Mr. Bates would be able to carry on living without her, but she wasn't strong enough to live without him, or live a lie with him. It was ironic that Mr. Bates had referred to her as his rock during his imprisonment. She felt like anything but a rock, more like a wobbly-legged jellyfish lately.

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She wanted to barricade her door, but was afraid that would be too suspicious if anyone thought to check up on her. As long as they opened her door and saw her lying on the bed, supposedly asleep, in the dark, their minds would be put at rest and she would be safe from discovery till dawn.

The guilt over leaving Mr. Bates was still very strong, and she began to rummage through her drawers for the writing things she knew were stuffed in there somewhere, unused since his return. It was suddenly very important for her to leave him an explanation –not a love-token, but a plea for forgiveness. Her normally elegant handwriting turned spidery as she scrawled memories, explanations and finally, an apology, choking back a sob as she signed _Yours forever, Anna_, for the last time, and propped the sealed letter next to her candlestick, where Mrs. Hughes was sure to see it and, she hoped, pass it on to him. Not that she would blame Mrs. Hughes if she burned it, either.

Her tears were flowing freely now and she didn't bother to try and stop them. No one would see her now, so what did it matter? Sitting down on her bed with one of her clothes hangers, she tried to untwist the ends with trembling fingers. Time and again, her hands slipped and the metal scratched her fingers, until she held it, one pointed end sticking up, in her bleeding hands.

She changed quickly into a nightgown, leaving her underthings off, and lay down on the bed, rolling the nightgown up to her hips so she could easily pull it back down and tug the covers over herself.

_It's okay, it'll be over soon_, she whispered to herself as she positioned the sharp end of the coat hanger low down at the entrance to her body –she hadn't expected it would take such an act of contortionism. She buried her face in her pillow to muffle the scared little whimpers that were escaping from her throat and decided that she would have to do this by feel alone –she simply could _not_ watch herself go through with this.

Completely unbidden, a memory of Mr. Bates' voice from their first night together floated into her consciousness. _"Anna, you need to relax. It's going to be alright, trust me."_ Trying to make herself go limp, she took a deep breath, mentally steeled herself and pushed the spike, then did it twice more, biting down on her lip so hard that she tasted blood in her attempt to stifle cries of pain as she felt flesh tear.

As she felt the first slow trickle of blood run down her legs, she curled herself into a ball and gave in to tears of pain, sorrow and terror.

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"Mrs. Hughes, may I ask a favour of you?" Mr. Bates asked as he waited in the servants' hall for Lord Grantham to ring for him. Mrs. Crawley had come over to the Abbey for dinner, and although he had known His Lordship would be late, this dinner seemed to be dragging on exaggeratedly late.

"You may," Mrs. Hughes conceded –she was sure she knew what he would be asking.

"Could you check on Anna –she looked so ill when she went upstairs," he explained.

"I was intending to," Mrs. Hughes admitted. "She's probably asleep by now, but I'll look in quietly just to be sure."

"I'll sleep much better if I know she's comfortably asleep," Mr. Bates admitted, almost embarrassed at exposing this vulnerable side of him, even to the kindly housekeeper.

Leaving Mr. Bates sitting despondently at the table, Mrs. Hughes climbed the stairs to the maids' quarters and listened at Anna's door, expecting to hear quiet, regular breathing. Instead, she heard what sounded like gasping sobs and pushed open the door, expecting to find Anna sitting up in bed crying, or at worst, in the grip of a nightmare.

"Anna!" Mrs. Hughes cried as she took in the scene, illuminated by a flickering candlelight which made the sight even more eerie. Anna was curled in bed, trying to muffle her sobs with a pillow, and her eyes, which immediately met Mrs. Hughes' communicated in equal parts fear, pain and, as soon as they registered her entrance, shock.

"No," Anna gasped in horror when she realised that she had been found, but Mrs. Hughes barely heard her. All her attention was focused on the puddle of blood Anna was lying in, colouring the hem of her nightgown scarlet and forming a dark, viscous pool on the white sheet beneath her.

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As always, all reviews greatly appreciated

_This was both painful and depressing to write, but once the idea was in my head I couldn't get it out except by writing it. I have most of the rest of this fic planned out, so while this is a bit of a cliffhanger ending, I won't be ending it on this note. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: As you can surmise, I don't own Downton Abbey

* * *

"Anna!" Mrs. Hughes moved closer to the bed to attempt to comfort Anna. Going by the amount of blood in the puddle under Anna's thighs, there was very little Dr. Clarkson would be able to do to save the child, and she couldn't leave the room without making some small gesture to soothe an obviously distraught Anna.

"Please," Anna pleaded, "leave me alone."

"But Anna, I have to send for Dr. Clarkson –maybe he can –"

"No," Anna continued, true panic in her voice. "You can't!" She had been holding herself rigid against the pain but reached out in an attempt to stop Mrs. Hughes from leaving, then gasped as a shockwave of pain shot through her midsection in response to the movement.

"But if you're miscarrying –"

"I'm not," Anna managed to gasp. "Please, you can't call Clarkson!"

Mrs. Hughes reached towards Anna to check for fever –possibly she was already delirious? –but stopped short when she saw the dismantled coat-hanger, its tip bloody, lying by Anna's side. Her blood chilled and she looked at the situation with different eyes, immediately recognising that Anna was in far more danger than she had initially thought.

"I won't," she promised, realising why Anna was so afraid of Clarkson being called. "But I will fetch help –don't move!" She ended her sentence with the command, worried that Anna would try to get up despite her obvious weakness and collapse, doing more damage to herself.

In the draft that the door made as Mrs. Hughes swung it behind her, not closing it in her hurry, Anna's candle blew out, leaving her alone in the dark. Dreading the "help" that Mrs. Hughes had gone to fetch, Anna shivered and clung to her pillow, hoping that she could drop into unconsciousness before Mrs. Hughes' return.

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"You did well to call me," Mrs. Crawley assured Mrs. Hughes as she hurried up the back staircase with her. "I'm glad I was still here."

Feeling she owed her the truth considering the favour she was asking of her, Mrs. Hughes had told Isobel the story as they walked: that Anna had been attacked by a visiting servant and that she had found her bleeding after apparently trying to induce an abortion earlier that evening.

"Why didn't you call me, if not Clarkson?" Isobel had sighed when Mrs. Hughes admitted that the attack had taken place during the concert.

"She was terrified," Mrs. Hughes admitted. "She made me promise not to tell anyone –and I wouldn't have, only once I found her tonight I didn't know what to do myself or who else to ask."

Once they reached the servants' corridor, Mrs. Hughes indicated the washroom to Isobel in response to the latter's query about where she might wash her hands, then pointed out Anna's room to her and hurried into it herself, praying that she would find Anna still conscious.

Anna tried to raise her head when Mrs. Hughes, carrying an oil lamp, entered the room, but couldn't lift herself more than a couple of centimetres before dropping back onto her pillow, exhausted by the effort.

"Who –who did you send for?" she managed to gasp out. "Not the police?"

Realising that Anna's fear was now the very real fear of being arrested, Mrs. Hughes hurried to reassure her on that account. "Not the police, and we're not getting Clarkson involved, either. You're not going to be arrested, Anna, I promise."

Moving the lamp closer to the bed, she looked again at the hanger, suppressing a shiver of horror as she did so. The blood on its tip didn't seem to extend very far along the spike, which she thought should be a good sign –maybe Anna hadn't punctured too far or too deep? But the puddle of coagulating blood seemed to have grown since she had first found Anna, which worried her.

"Do you think you're still bleeding?" Mrs. Hughes asked cautiously, and her heart sank when Anna slowly nodded. She was saved from replying by Isobel, who couldn't quite suppress a small gasp of horror at the sight in front of her, before moving briskly to the bed.

"Anna, I'm going to have to examine you now. Is that alright?" Isobel asked, and Anna nodded her assent weakly, resigned to her fate now. There wasn't anything she could do to stop them now, even if she wanted to resist.

Isobel moved the oil lamp further down, casting Anna and Mrs. Hughes into shadows. "Try not to move," she told Anna as she moved the blood-soaked nightdress her out of the way, not daring to help Anna out of it –that would require too much movement of Anna –until she had seen quite how much damage Anna had managed to inflict on herself.

"Anna, talk to me," Mrs. Hughes ordered gently, trying to distract Anna from the pain. Even in the shadows, she could see Anna's eyes glittering and knew she was still conscious. "Why didn't you tell me you were with child?"

"You would have made me tell Mr. Bates," Anna managed to say, pausing to breathe and grit her teeth between every couple of words. "But I couldn't trick him. And I couldn't bear…"

Anna's eyes suddenly closed and her body went limp.

"She's fainted," Mrs. Crawley said. "From pain, I think, though the blood loss hasn't helped."

"I have some smelling salts in my room –" Mrs. Hughes began, but Isobel shook her head.

"Better that she's unconscious for now. She must have been in excruciating pain for a while now, it's a mercy that she's out of it briefly."

"Will she be alright?"

"I think she'll pull through," Isobel said cautiously. "Though if she hasn't yet lost the child, she will soon."

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"Do you have any medical supplies in the house?" Isobel asked. "It's a bit late to send a driver down to the hospital without arousing suspicion."

"I'll fetch the first aid box," Mrs. Hughes said, happy to have something concrete to do to help. Anna seemed to be bleeding more, and she hoped that Mrs. Crawley's assessment that Anna would "pull through" was accurate. She herself was having a hard time suppressing a fear that Anna would bleed to death in front of her eyes, but she gratefully clung to the hope Mrs. Crawley had given her.

Hurrying back downstairs, she saw a light still on in the servants' hall and wondered idly who could still be up –all the maids and footmen had been sent upstairs before Mr. Bates asked her to check on Anna –then it hit her. Mr. Bates! She had left a message with Mr. Carson for him to wait for her downstairs as she went in search of Mrs. Crawley. At the time, she had honestly thought that she would be calling him up to say a last goodbye to Anna, but with the way things had turned out, she had no idea what to do for the best.

He stood up as he heard her footsteps, worry etched on every line of his face.

"How is Anna?"

"She's not at all well," Mrs. Hughes admitted. "Mrs. Crawley is still with her."

"Mrs. Crawley? But she's a nurse –why not Dr. Clarkson?"

"It's a rather... delicate matter, Mr. Bates," Mrs. Hughes said.

"I can take it," Mr. Bates assured her. "Tell me, what has happened to my wife?" He emphasized the last two syllables to remind Mrs. Hughes that he had every right to know what was happening to Anna.

"Come with me," Mrs. Hughes sighed as she collected the first aid box.

"What you see may shock you," she warned after cautioning him to be quiet going up the stairs to the maids' corridor.

"No matter how ill she is, I need to see her," he said calmly, beginning to walk up the stairs.

"Wait, I need to explain something to you first," Mrs. Hughes said, not wanting him to walk into the room and think that Anna had attempted to abort his own child.

"Does this have something to do with Anna's odd behaviour over the past three months?" Bates paused between two steps.

"It has everything to do with it. Do you remember Dame Nellie Melba's concert?"

"I do," Bates said. "The night Anna fainted and hit her head."

"She didn't. Mr. Bates, when Anna came downstairs alone, she was attacked by one of the visiting servants."

"Attacked how?" he asked, but saw the answer in Mrs. Hughes' reluctance to answer.

"No," he gasped, echoing Anna's cry from earlier that night. "Not Anna!" The lines on his face deepened and he ran a hand over his eyes. "Why did no one tell me?"

"She was afraid," Mrs. Hughes defended Anna. "She saw herself as spoiled, unworthy of you."

"She could never be unworthy," Bates insisted, feeling a band of pain tighten round his heart at the thought of what Anna had had to endure. "And what has this to do with Anna's illness tonight?"

Mrs. Hughes looked at him and cursed Green in her heart. Sending up a silent prayer that her next sentence would not break Mr. Bates, she continued.

"It turns out Anna is –or was –with child as a result of the attack."

"She's miscarrying?" Mr. Bates pushed himself away from the wall and began taking the stairs as fast as his cane would let him.

"Not quite," Mrs. Hughes sighed. "I'm not quite certain what Anna intended to do, but she appears to have attempted to abort the child, or take her own life."

There was no other word for it: Mr. Bates' face lost all its colour and he crumpled, would have collapsed on the floor if it weren't for his cane.

"Take me to her," he pleaded, her last phrase having come closer to breaking him than prison ever could have.

Mrs. Hughes led him up the stairs –for the sake of his own pride, she pretended not to see the tears running down his cheeks.

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_Thank you so much for all your reviews... they are real morale-boosters after (or before) a day of work_


	4. Chapter 4

Mr. Bates reached the top of the stairs and paused, uncertain which door led to Anna.

"That one," Mrs. Hughes indicated, stepping back to let him enter first. "She's very weak," she warned him, but nothing could have prepared him for what awaited him in the little room.

The cloying smell of blood hit him as soon as he walked in but he ignored it and limped straight to Anna, who hid her face in her pillow as soon as she heard his voice.

"Anna," he began gently, but she wouldn't look at him. Mrs. Crawley hurried out of the room, murmuring something about washing her hands.

"Please go away," she said, and her voice, so weak and full of tears, was enough to start him off crying too. "This wasn't meant to happen."

"You mean you didn't intend to be found in time?" There was a strange edge to his voice and she chanced a look at him as. Instead of the rage that she expected to see on him, his face was contorted with pain. "Because despite this, despite all the pain I can see you're in, I am so relieved you were found in time."

"I'm not."

Mrs. Crawley hurried back into the room and went straight to the first aid box that Mrs. Hughes had brought in, hoping that she would find the supplies she needed. Suddenly realising that Mr. Bates was making no move to leave, she paused, but he shook his head.

"I can't leave her," he said, unable to mask a tremor in his voice. The last time he had left Anna alone, she had been evilly attacked, and he couldn't leave her alone again, although he knew that Mrs. Crawley and Mrs. Hughes had nothing but good intentions.

"I can't have him wandering in the maids' corridor," Mrs. Hughes interjected on his behalf, and the matter was settled.

"Very well," Mrs. Crawley nodded, opening the box. Mrs. Hughes reached into the box for one of the headache powders and mixed it into the glass of water next to Anna's bed.

"Drink this," she urged Anna, helping her raise herself slightly, although the movement made Anna bite her lip in an effort not to cry out in pain. It would probably not do anything to ease the agony Anna was in, but it was all they had.

"i'll bring some stronger painkillers from the hospital tomorrow," Mrs. Crawley said. "She'll likely be in a great deal of pain until the wounds heal, and those powders won't do much to help."

While Anna drank, Bates glanced away from Anna's face towards the scene of carnage around her middle, wincing as he saw the blood coating her thighs and pooled beneath her. Averting his eyes, his gaze landed on the dismantled hanger, and yet another stab of pain shot through him.

Uncomfortable in this distinctly female environment, he shifted when Mrs. Crawley and Mrs. Hughes set to work and Anna moaned in pain. He sat at Anna's side, his back to Mrs. Crawley and Mrs. Hughes so he couldn't see what they were doing, and positioned his bulk to block Anna's line of vision so she couldn't see either.

"Squeeze my hand," he said softly to her, taking her small hand in his. He hadn't realised she would have turned quite so cold and clammy –almost corpse-like, if it weren't for the fact that her eyelids fluttered occasionally over her scrunched-shut eyes.

With Anna's eyes closed tight against the pain, he scanned her face like he might never see it again, taking in every little detail, from the dried tracks of tears on her cheeks to the blood on her bottom lip. He wanted nothing more than to wipe the tears and blood away but restrained himself. After the attack and the pain she was currently in, further touch was probably the last thing she needed or wanted.

"It's almost over, Anna," Mrs. Hughes called soothingly as Anna gasped again in pain and one hand moved down to clutch her stomach.

Bates tightened his grip on Anna's other hand reassuringly, and was heartened when she squeezed weakly back. Witnessing this grotesque parody of a birth made him feel ill, not helped by the cloying smell of blood in the air. His world had narrowed to only Anna, and it could have been hours or it could have only been minutes later that Mrs. Crawley and Mrs. Hughes stepped back and he loosened his grip on Anna's hand, leaving her white and shivering, exhausted, on the bed.

"I think it's almost over," Mrs. Hughes said cautiously, and Mrs. Crawley nodded agreement. "She's very weak, but the bleeding should slow and stop over the next few hours and as long as there's no infection, she'll live."

"I must go," Mrs. Crawley said with one last worried glance at Anna. "Robert and Mary will start asking too many questions they find out I stayed very much longer."

"What will you tell his Lordship if he asks?" Mrs. Hughes asked.

"He won't enquire further if I tell him it's "women's problems,"" Isobel shrugged. "I'll be back tomorrow morning with some medicine from the hospital."

XXXXXXXXX

"We can count on Mrs. Crawley's silence," Mrs. Hughes assured Mr. Bates as they made their way back upstairs to Anna, having gone downstairs to see Mrs. Crawley off and to fetch some more water for Anna. The thought that Anna had committed two of the most, in the eyes of the law, heinous crimes, had not occurred to Bates in the attic room, but as he thought about it, he realised the sense in fetching Mrs. Crawley rather than Dr. Clarkson. Clarkson, as a medical doctor, would have been obliged to report Anna to the authorities after saving her life –Mrs. Crawley, as a nurse, was not –and as a woman, she was more likely to be sympathetic to Anna and remain silent. Not for the first time, Bates was thankful for the motherly relationship that existed between Mrs. Hughes and Anna. Had he been the one to find Anna in that state, he would not have thought twice about calling Dr. Clarkson –and in doing so, would have signed his own wife's arrest warrant.

"It feels so strange that the house is going on as normal," Bates observed, noticing that the chauffer was still up and waiting for Mrs. Crawley at the door and the hall boys were only now unrolling their pallets on the floor.

"As if the world hasn't been well and truly shaken," Mrs. Hughes agreed.

When they reached Anna's room, they found that she had managed –very shakily –to get up and pull a clean nightdress towards her, and was attempting to extricate herself from the bloody one.

"Let me," Bates said, dropping the water on the nearest surface and moving towards Anna, feeling his heart sink as she shrank away from him. "Please?"

"I'll get another bed ready," Mrs. Hughes said. "Well, I can't let you spend the night in this room alone, Anna!" she said in response to Anna's surprised look.

"I'll stay with her, Mrs. Hughes," Bates offered. "You need to sleep, and I know I won't be able to." He knew he was overstepping the boundaries but he also knew, somehow, that tonight Mrs. Hughes was willing to bend the rules.

When Mrs. Hughes had left them, Bates reached out again to Anna.

"I won't hurt you, love," he said soothingly. How had he not noticed how tiny she had become over the past weeks?

Relunctantly, still shaking, Anna let him draw the nightgown, now stiff with dried blood, over her head, but went rigid as she felt his hand move towards her thighs to wipe off the blood.

"Would you rather do that yourself?" he suggested softly, in the same voice he would use to calm a frightened animal.

Anna nodded slowly and took the damp cloth he offered her. As she slowly wiped herself clean, he hovered with his hands behind her, ready to catch her if she should faint.

"Aren't you angry?" she asked in a small voice.

"Angry? I'm livid –but not at you, at the animal who caused all this." Gently, he helped her into the clean nightgown then, unable to resist, he brushed a strand of hair off her forehead.

"Water?" he suggested, relieved that she hadn't flinched.

"Yes, please," Anna agreed, drinking the glass of water he held for her gratefully.

Looking around, Bates' eyes landed on a white envelope propped against Anna's candlestick.

"What's that?" he asked nodding towards it. It looked like it had "Mr. Bates" written on it in shaky handwriting, and he looked at Anna for confirmation.

"It was for you –I wanted you to read it after I died," she explained, and though Mr. Bates felt a lurch in his stomach at the matter of fact way Anna spoke about her death, he forced himself to speak calmly.

"May I read it anyway?"

Anna nodded, but rather than open it, he tucked it into his pocket as they heard Mrs. Hughes' approaching footsteps.

"The room next to mine is made up," she said softly.

Holding out a hand to stop Anna as she made to get off the bed, Bates dropped his cane beside Anna's bed and lifted her tenderly, careful not to jolt her. Following Mrs. Hughes, he gently carried Anna along the corridor, ignoring the pain in his leg as he concentrated on taking slow, even steps and putting Anna down carefully on her new bed.

The new room had a mildly musty smell, but it was clean and right next to Mrs. Hughes', and for that Bates was grateful.

"Are you sure you'll be alright here, Mr. Bates?" Mrs. Hughes asked.

"Quite sure," he assured her.

"You'll call me if the bleeding gets any worse, or if she starts running a fever?"

"I will," he promised.

"Very well then," she sighed, reluctant to leave Anna, though she knew Mr. Bates had more right to be with Anna than she did. "Try and get some rest too."

"If we can," he said dryly. Anna had curled up in pain again and he doubted he'd be able to rest knowing that Anna was in pain.

Mrs. Hughes nodded in agreement and turned to leave, but was stopped by a tiny voice coming from the bed.

"Mrs. Hughes? Thank you."

"You're very welcome Anna –it was the least I could do," Mrs. Hughes answered. "When you're better, you and I need to have a talk, but not tonight."

When Mrs. Hughes had left, Bates looked in the wardrobe for an extra blanket to cover the shivering Anna, gently touching her forehead to check for signs of fever, but found none. Her skin was so cold and her lips so bloodless that it sent chills through him.

* * *

Thank you so much for all the encouraging reviews :) They've been a real source for motivation both to write and to get through everyday life... much appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you so much for your reviews, I appreciate each and every one of them_

* * *

"Will you be alright like this?" he asked as he drew the blanket over her.

"It hurts so badly," she moaned.

"I know it does, love, but it will be over soon," he soothed, feeling hopelessly ineffectual. Over the 2 years of their marriage, Anna had only been ill twice, and both of those times he had been able to comfort her by rubbing slow circles on her back or stomach –something which, in light of the attack and Anna's earlier discomfort around letting him touch her, he now felt unable to do.

"Can I do anything to help?" he asked, hoping she wouldn't ask him to leave.

In response a small cold hand snaked out a few inches under the blanket, which he took hold of, tucking their clasped hands back under the blanket. If he had dared, he would have put his arms around her to transmit as much of his warmth to her as possible, but he didn't dare risk that either.

In this first relatively peaceful moment since Mrs. Hughes had found him waiting in the servants' hall, with Anna temporarily resting, he had time to reflect on all that he'd seen and learned that night. Rage surged through him as he thought of the scum who had attacked his wife. Whoever the bastard was, he was the reason Anna was afraid of him, was now lying here, possibly bleeding out, instead of sound asleep in the cottage where she belonged. Bates frowned as he tried to remember what Mrs. Hughes had said as they climbed the stairs. A visiting servant? That was easy enough: there had only been two visiting valets. Mr. Martin and Mr. Green, wasn't it?

Surely not Green, who Anna had initially taken such a liking to, who she'd been so friendly to? He forced himself to think back to the concert, after Anna had gone downstairs. He was fairly sure Martin had been there throughout –the poor man had had a coughing fit right before Dame Nellie's highest note, but Anna had already been gone a while at that point.

Green, then? Bates suddenly remembered that Green had slipped off to visit the lavatory soon after Anna's departure. The beast! _That_ was how he repaid Anna's kindness? Bates' left hand, the one that wasn't clutching Anna's, clenched into a tight fist. It was sickening to think that that animal had come back to listen to the music, had had the gall to sit behind him right after brutalising his wife, leaving her beaten and bleeding downstairs.

_Green is a dead man walking_.

Anna moaned in pain, only semi-conscious, and his thoughts snapped immediately back to her. With all the urgency he had been caught up in ever since entering her room, the reality of what Anna had tried to do hadn't yet sunk in. Abortion. Suicide. The room began to spin around him as he remembered the bloody coat hanger and a vision of a sobbing Anna stabbing it into her delicate flesh flashed into his mind.

_Thank God Mrs. Hughes found her in time._

Thinking of Anna's hypothetical death made him break out in a cold sweat, and he hurriedly moved towards the bed to check that she was still breathing. It seemed like his heart stopped pounding for a minute until he heard and felt shallow breathing. It might have been selfish of him, but he would rather have Anna alive, albeit in unimaginable pain, than dead.

_Don't even think about what would have happened if Mrs. Hughes hadn't found her._

A sudden spasm of pain brought Anna briefly back to consciousness and she pulled her hand out of John's grip to wrap both hands around her belly before dropping back into what Mrs. Crawley had earlier termed "merciful unconsciousness."

With Anna not needing him for the time being, John quickly made himself comfortable, settling in for a night of vigil. Removing the jacket of his livery, he realised that his white shirt and cuffs –possibly his jacket and trousers too –were smeared with blood, something he hadn't noticed, much less cared about, until now. He decided to remain in his shirt and trousers –he could borrow clean ones from the laundry later that morning –and hope that his jacket and waistcoat would pass muster.

* * *

"John?" Anna called weakly an hour later.

"I'm right here, Anna," he said, moving cautiously closer to the bed. He hadn't slept at all in that hour, but had spent it watching Anna and thinking about all the tell-tale signs of what had happened to her, wishing that he'd been perceptive enough to guess when he found her leaving Mrs. Hughes' office in a different dress. In some respects it was easier when she drifted briefly to the surface of consciousness, because then at least he could focus on her and her current needs, rather than brooding while he watched her sleep.

"It hurts too much to sleep," she said, remaining as still as possible, though her eyes had flickered open at the sound of his voice. "Why are you crying?"

It would have been useless to deny his tears, he knew Anna could hear them in his voice. Hating himself for giving in to them –he should be strong for Anna's sake, not give in to his own feelings –he answered.

"I'm just so sorry –sorry about what you had to go through and about what you tried to do. I couldn't bear to lose you, Anna." He had been about to add another "about" but realised that now was not the time to burden Anna with it.

"I thought it would be better that way," she said, her voice devoid of any emotion.

"My world without you in it would never be better, not in any way," he answered firmly.

"But I'm spoiled for you," Anna went on, determined to push through and come clean to John. "I'm no longer the woman you married."

"You are stronger than you were on our wedding day," John went on. "And I love you _more_ than I did then, not less."

Anna frowned and looked away.

"Has the pain got worse?" John asked solicitously.

"No, it's the same as it was," Anna reassured him. "It's bad but after what I did I deserve it."

"You don't deserve any of this," he said fiercely, needing her to understand this if nothing else. "You are blameless in all this."

_I should have protected you better_, he thought. What pitiful repayment for all Anna had done for him –while she had been ill and attacked, he had been sitting upstairs _enjoying the music_.

"But this is a crime," Anna went on. "If I'm not arrested for all this, you could have me put away in an asylum."

"Never!" he retorted. "Anna, you will not be arrested, you will not be locked up and I will never want to be rid of you. I will be by your side throughout all this, trying to make it up to you for leaving you alone when you needed me most."

Anna's head bowed and she curled herself up tightly again, though John couldn't tell whether the spasms of pain had got worse or whether she just didn't want to face him.

"Anna, may I ask you something?"

She nodded, though she didn't meet his eyes.

"Why did you move out of the cottage even before you realised you were with child?"

Anna immediately tried to make herself even smaller.

"Because –because I can't be touched without feeling his hands on me, and I was –I was afraid that..." Her meaning was not lost on John.

"You moved out because you were afraid I would force intimacy on you?"

"I know you can divorce me for that, but I'm so afraid of making love to you ever since it happened." She'd said it. She waited, trembling, for his response.

"Anna, let me make this very clear: I will not, under any circumstances, force a physical relationship on you. Neither will I divorce you for lack of one. When, or whether, we make love again, is entirely up to you. I will not push you into anything, you have my word." He said this gently, trying to transmit to her through his voice the comfort he couldn't give her by holding her.

* * *

He watched over Anna as she slept, occasionally leaning over to check her forehead for fever. Just as he was starting to wonder how he was going to avoid being caught in the maids' corridor later that morning, Mrs. Hughes tapped softly on the door before coming in.

"I couldn't sleep," she admitted in response to Mr. Bates' questioning look. "How has she been?"

"Still in a great deal of pain, but no fever," he answered.

"I can stay with her for now," she told him. "You can go downstairs –the hall boys will be up soon, so will the scullery maids. Or," she added, noticing his bloody shirt, "you could walk down to the cottage for a clean livery."

"I was going to borrow a clean shirt from the laundry," he said. "Mrs. Hughes, while Anna's asleep, may I ask you something? I didn't want to add to Anna's burden by asking, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about this ever since you told me she was with child."

Mrs. Hughes nodded. She knew what he was about to ask, but the only way she could answer him was with a guess.

"What if the child Anna lost" –he could not bring himself to say the word _aborted_, although that was what it was, "what if it was my child, not Green's?"

Mrs. Hughes didn't ask how he knew it was Green, assuming Anna had told him herself at some point that night.

"I can't say for certain, Mr. Bates, but I do know Anna would never have considered this if she knew, or even thought, that it was your child. She wanted a child with you so very, very badly."

_Another way in which he had failed her._

* * *

_Please review_


	6. Chapter 6

"Do you think she'll be all right?" Bates asked, taking one last lingering look at Anna before leaving the room.

"Let's hope so," Mrs. Hughes sighed. She was just as worried about Anna as her husband was. "I'll stay with her a while longer, and check in on her throughout the day."

"Is it safe to leave her alone?" he wondered aloud. "What if she starts bleeding again, or spikes a fever, or..." he trailed off, afraid to voice his deepest fear: that Anna might once again try to take her own life.

"I don't think she would," Mrs. Hughes tried to reassure him. Anna was no longer carrying Green's child, which had been Anna's tipping point. With the child lost, Mrs. Hughes hoped that Anna would be able to resume her old life, especially now that Mr. Bates knew and, she was sure, would be doing his utmost to make sure his wife knew she was loved and cherished.

Bates wasn't so certain. Knowing that his wife felt used, dirty and unworthy worried him, and the fact that he couldn't walk up to the maid's corridor whever he had a free moment to check on her had him even more concerned. Part of him was wondering whether he could, if necessary, bribe one of the maids, possibly Daisy, to slip up to Anna's room at regular intervals to make sure she was okay.

"Mrs. Crawley will be up later," she reminded him. "Anna will be fine, I promise you. And," she added, making a snap decision, "if you'll wait around until Mr. Carson and the maids have gone to sleep, I'll let you into the maids' corridor to see Anna before you leave tonight." It was a small comfort, but it was all she could offer him.

* * *

"What are you doing here so early, Mr. Bates?" Carson asked when he entered the servants' hall and found Bates already seated opposite Anna's empty seat.

"Trouble sleeping," Bates shrugged –if it wasn't the truth, it wasn't a complete lie.

"Anna's been taken worse in the night," Mrs. Hughes said to the other servants at breakfast. "I've moved her to the room next door to mine, and she won't be down for the next couple of days at least." She continued over the burst of questions that met her announcement. "I ask that you maintain quiet in the maids' corridor and don't disturb her."

Carson looked over at Bates to see how he was taking the news –his unhappiness over his separation from Anna had not gone unnoticed –but Bates' face remained stony.

"I'll see to Lady Mary this morning," Mrs. Hughes said as Lord Grantham and Lady Mary's bells rang in quick succession. Bates stood up to follow her out of the room.

"What will you tell Lady Mary if she asks?"

"She will ask," Mrs. Hughes confirmed –Lady Mary was unusually fond of Anna. "But I won't tell her what really happened, at least not until I've spoken to Anna about it."

* * *

"Exactly how ill is Anna?" Mary asked when Mrs. Hughes explained that she and Miss Baxter would be seeing to Lady Mary's needs for at least the next week.

"Quite ill, My Lady," Mrs. Hughes admitted.

"I assume Clarkson has been, or will be, called?" Lady Mary enquired.

"No, My Lady," Mrs. Hughes admitted, knowing that she had to admit Isobel's involvement if she didn't want Mary to summon Clarkson herself. "Mrs. Crawley was still at the house last night and I asked for her help."

"Isobel?" Mary asked, surprised, as Mrs. Hughes began to brush out her hair, rather more abruptly than Anna usually did. "But she's only a nurse!"

"But she has experience treating female patients, and in this case there was nothing Dr. Clarkson could do that Mrs. Crawley couldn't."

"Mrs. Hughes, I think I can guess the rest, but please go on," Mary said, her face creasing with worry for Anna.

"It appears Anna was with child, milady, but she miscarried late last night," Mrs. Hughes said, giving Mary the acceptable version of the story.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. That will be all," Mary said absently, wondering how she could engineer a meeting with Isobel to find out more –because there _was_ more to it than Mrs. Hughes had told her, she was sure. Isobel had never been called in place of Dr. Clarkson, and Mrs. Hughes had never taken the risk of avoiding calling for medical attention when it came to the staff health –especially for Anna, who Mary knew was something of a surrogate daughter to Mrs. Hughes. And wouldn't Bates, if he knew, have insisted that a proper doctor be called to attend to his wife?

Mary's heart ached for Anna. What a terrible thing to happen to her... Mary remembered her own pregnancy and could imagine how distraught she would have been if anything had happened to her unborn child. Poor Anna, and poor Bates, losing their much-wanted child... as if they hadn't already been through enough hardship together.

* * *

"Isobel! Just the person I was hoping to see," Mary smiled as she walked downstairs and found James showing Mrs. Crawley into the house.

"Mary," Isobel smiled in response. "I'm just here to speak to Mrs. Hughes this morning."

"And to see Anna?" Mary guessed. Isobel frowned.

"How do you know about Anna?"

"Mrs. Hughes told me she came to you for help last night instead of sending for Clarkson," Mary answered. "May I come up with you to see her?"

"No," Isobel shook her head. "At least not today, Mary."

"But Isobel –" Mary protested, but Isobel cut her off.

"Please trust me on this, Mary."

"Very well," Mary sighed, though she wasn't going to admit defeat that easily –all she was going to do was change tack. "Could I have a word with you before you leave?"

"Of course," Isobel answered, pleased that Mary wasn't insisting she go up with her to see Anna.

* * *

Mrs. Hughes had repeated the story she had told Lady Mary to Mr. Carson when he asked her what was wrong with Anna, though he didn't question her when she told him Mrs. Crawley was better placed to help Anna than Dr. Clarkson.

"Has Mr. Bates been told?" Carson asked.

"He was still here when I asked Mrs. Crawley to come upstairs," Mrs. Hughes said, omitting the fact that she had permitted Bates to spend the night in the room with Anna. To avoid meeting Carson's eye, she looked guiltily at the fire in the room, where she had earlier burned Anna's nightgown and sheets, judging them to be irredeemably bloodstained and wanting to avoid questions from the laundry maid.

"Poor Bates, no wonder he didn't sleep," Carson mused. Although the thought of a pregnant ladies' maid sent his mind into a flurry of consternation, he greatly respected both Anna and Bates, and the thought that they had to suffer through this pained him more than he would admit.

He was prevented from asking any further questions by a knock on the door of Mrs. Hughes' pantry and the entrance of Mrs. Crawley.

"How was Anna during the night?" Isobel asked immediately.

"According to Mr. Bates, she was in quite some pain, but she wasn't running a temperature, and she was much the same this morning."

"May I go up and see her now?"

"Certainly –I'll just tell Mr. Carson where I'm going and I'll be right up too."

"Erm, I think it's better if I went up alone," Isobel said. "Anna might feel more comfortable if there were fewer people in the room," she said in response to Mrs. Hughes' raised eyebrows. "And there might be certain things she'd like to ask which she wouldn't be comfortable asking if you were in the room too."

"I suppose you're right," Mrs. Hughes conceded. "But you will let me know if I'm needed or if Anna appears to be worse?"

"You have my word," Isobel promised, beginning to ascend the stairs.

Anna wasn't in the room she had been when Isobel had left the night before –that room was empty, bed stripped and window open –but after opening another 2 doors and finding the rooms empty, Isobel found Anna lying motionless under a heap of blankets. Her face was sheet white, although that was a more encouraging sign than if her face had been flushed with fever.

"How are you feeling?" Isobel asked, drawing the lone chair up to the bed. She decided that unless Anna drew attention to it herself, she would avoid mentioning the fact that Anna had obviously been crying until she had seen to Anna's physical condition first.

"Still in pain," Anna admitted. "And a bit dizzy."

"I can help with the pain right away," Isobel smiled, removing a bottle of painkillers from her bag –the strongest she could find at the hospital. Anna blanched at the size of the pills but another stab of pain shot through her and she quickly swallowed one down with a glass of water.

"Are you still bleeding?" Isobel asked.

"A bit," Anna admitted.

"May I examine you?" Isobel asked cautiously and Anna nodded her agreement, mentally steeling herself in preparation for it. Although she knew Mrs. Crawley had nothing but good intentions, being touched again, especially there, brought back uncomfortable memories of Green's assault.

"Healing well, and so far no signs of infection," Isobel said as she straightened up. She would have Anna take a course of the pills she'd brought along to fight infection too though, just in case. As Isobel left the room to wash her hands, Anna tugged her nightgown back down and moved up to a sitting position. The painkillers had thankfully started to work and she could now move with less pain, which was a blessing –she hadn't been sure how much longer she could withstand the pain she'd been in ever since last night.

When Isobel returned, she saw that Anna had managed to sit up, but that she was still trembling as much as she had when she'd begun her examination.

"Still can't help feeling scared every time someone touches you?" Isobal asked sypathetically as she sat down next to the bed.

"Every time someone does, my body remembers what _his_ touch felt like... how much it hurt," Anna admitted. "Will it ever get easier?"

"I think it will," Isobel tried to reassure her. "With time, you'll start to forget his touch and slowly start feeling more at ease around other people."

"Anna," Isobel began, hoping she wasn't about to do more harm than good with what she was about to ask, "about last night... can I ask, what were you really intending to do?"

"I wanted the child... I wanted it gone," Anna began haltingly. "Only I know it's almost impossible to get rid of a baby without the mother dying too, but I didn't care, all I was thinking was that I couldn't have his child growing in me. And all I could think to use were the coat hanger or –or arsenic... but I couldn't do that to Mr. Bates."

"You were lucky," Isobel said gently. "Usually, using a coat hanger does kill the woman too... or if it doesn't, they are often left unable to bear children."

"I don't think Mr. Bates and I will ever have children," Anna mused thoughtfully.

"You never know," Isobel said, though she could understand that it was easier for Anna to believe that Bates could never give her a child rather than face the possibility that the child whose existence had so terrified her could have been Bates' child rather than Green's.

Before she left, Isobel had one last thing to ask Anna.

"Now that the child is gone," Isobel began, "and Mr. Bates knows about what happened –and I'm sure will be nothing but caring... do you feel any better?"

"I don't know," Anna said. "I feel relieved that I no longer have to worry about the possibility of a baby, but I can't help feeling that Mr. Bates deserves more than a spoiled wife. I still feel dirty and at fault –if anything, I feel more like a sinner now than I did before... and I can't imagine that ever changing." With that, she dissolved back into tears, worrying Isobel, who had been hoping that no longer being with child and having Bates' compassion and love back would have made Anna feel a bit less troubled.

Anna was now sobbing that she would deserve it if Bates had her locked up, which pushed Isobel to move over and take her hand, trying to murmur words of encouragement to her, only leaving when Mrs. Hughes appeared with a tray of food for Anna, insisting that she had to eat it.

After reulctantly eating, Anna realised that she was too tired to sit up any longer. Mrs. Crawley had been right, the blood loss really had sapped her strength.

"She came perilously close to dying through loss of blood," Mrs. Crawley had confided to Mrs. Hughes, asking her to keep Bates informed too. "Nothing to do now but rest and regain her strength slowly."

Before lying down to sleep, Anna looked at the two bottles of pills Mrs. Crawley had left, but decided she was much, much too weary to think any more about whether she was glad she hadn't died and what she would do if she decided she wasn't. At least not for now, she thought, grateful for the fact that the pain had now subsided to a dull ache. For now, this was bearable.


	7. Chapter 7

As Isobel walked back up the stairs to the main house after updating Mrs. Hughes on Anna's condition, she found Mary on her way down the stairs. If Isobel hadn't been sure such a thing was quite beneath Lady Mary's dignity, she would have sworn the younger woman had been leaning over the staircase waiting for her to appear.

"Ah, Isobel," Cora called, appearing in the doorway of the library. "Won't you stay for luncheon?"

"Yes, please do," Mary agreed, playing the polite hostess despite her frustration at having her plans for a quiet chat with Isobel thwarted. Not that she was going to give up, of course. She sat through the meal with a stony expression on her face, barely listening to the conversation as she puzzled over Isobel's earlier evasiveness and Mrs. Hughes' matter-of-fact story.

Cora seemed happy to believe that Isobel's visit to Mrs. Hughes was one of her many "good works", and much as Isobel normally hated that term, that day she was happy to encourage it, its vagueness masking the reality of what she had really been doing.

"Why don't you come up and see little George before you leave?" Mary suggested brightly, knowing Isobel would never turn down an offer to visit her grandson.

"I suppose I could," Isobel agreed. Part of her was eager to see George, the spitting image of his father as a baby, but part of her was wary of Mary's suggestion. She was tired, her head still reeling after what she had seen and heard in the attics that night and morning... not fully herself. And she needed to be in full control of herself if she were to satisfy Mary's curiousity without betraying any confidences.

"Please leave us for a moment, Nanny," Mary ordered in her imperious manner as soon as she and Isobel entered the nursery. George rested his head against Isobel as Nanny laid him gently in her arms, one pudgy hand reaching out for her sleeve, and in that tiny gesture from the baby, tears welled up in Isobel's eyes. In all the hurry to stem the bleeding last night and the pressing need to console and reassure Anna that day, it hadn't really sunk in yet that there had been, not an abstract baby, but a real flesh and blood one, who had been lost.

"Isobel!" Mary gasped, reaching out to take her son, thinking that his likeness to Matthew was upsetting Isobel.

"No, it's not George," Isobel said, relinquishing her hold on the child anyway. "Looking at him got me thinking about something else, that's all."

"About Anna's baby?" Mary asked quietly as she stroked the blonde hair on her son's head. Suddenly she wished they were having this conversation anywhere else but in this room, surrounded by signs of babies.

"Yes," Isobel agreed.

"Will you tell me what really happened?"

"You already know what happened," Isobel said patiently to Mary, as though she were barely older than Sybbie.

"I only know what Mrs. Hughes told me," Mary answered. "And I'm not certain she's told me the truth."

"Mary, Anna suffered a miscarriage. That's all. It's tragic, of course, but there's no more to it than that."

"No, it's not," Mary argued. "Why has Clarkson not been called? Isobel, Mrs. Hughes has never avoided calling Clarkson –why hasn't he been called for this, when Anna's life could be in danger? And what about Bates?"

"Can't you just trust that Mrs. Hughes and I –and Bates –know best?"

"No," Mary said flatly. "If it were anything else –or anyone else –I might. But not when Anna's involved. What if Clarkson had been able to save that baby?" She said the last sentence very quietly, not wanting to sound like she was critical of Isobel, but she still couldn't imagine how Isobel and Mrs. Hughes –and apparently Bates too –had been in the middle of a medical emergency and had chosen not to call Clarkson. Even if Isobel had happened to be there to help, that didn't explain how no one had called him that morning to check Anna.

"He wouldn't have," Isobel said sadly.

"Isobel," Mary said, exasperated now. "I hate to pull rank, but if I don't get an explanation for this evasiveness, I shall summon Clarkson here myself. How can Mrs. Hughes and Bates risk Anna's life like this?"

"If you do that, Anna will be even more at risk," Isobel said, her mind racing as she tried to think of a story that would satisfy Mary.

"What do you mean, even more at risk? Is she still in danger?"

"Mary, please don't get agitated," Isobel said as George, responding to his mother's distress, began to whimper.

"Then tell me."

"I'll have to," Isobel sighed. "But Mary, you must promise not to breathe a word of this to anyone. No matter what."

"I promise," Mary agreed.

"The night of the house party," Isobel began, taking a deep breath. "while everyone was listening to the concert, Anna was attacked –violated –don't ask me by whom."

All the colour drained from Mary's face and her eyes opened wide.

"The bruises?" she asked, and although Isobel hadn't seen Anna's cuts and bruises after the attack, she nodded.

"Why didn't she say something?" Mary asked as she wondered how, no matter how many times since the concert she had asked Anna if she were all right, Anna had repeatedly assured her that she was fine. "Or did everyone downstairs know?"

"She was too scared and ashamed," Isobel said. "No one except Mrs. Hughes knew –Bates only found out last night."

"So the child..." Mary began hesitantly as her mind jumped ahead. "May not have been Bates'?"

"Anna is certain it was not Bates' child," Isobel said.

"But why not call Clarkson anyway? Or... did Bates find out about the child and hit her?" She didn't dare put her fear into words –a horror that Bates, upon finding out the child was not his, had hit Anna badly enough for her to lose the child. "Is he stopping you from calling Clarkson?" Mary couldn't believe that Bates, whose adoration for his wife was common knowledge around the Abbey, could be capable of such cruelty to Anna, but she couldn't think what else could be stopping Isobel and Mrs. Hughes from sending for Clarkson.

"No, definitely not," Isobel tried to reassure Mary. "Bates initially _wanted_ Clarkson called, until he realised it would only make Anna's situation worse."

"How?" Mary asked, beginning to feel ever-so-slightly sick.

"Anna didn't miscarry in the way Mrs. Hughes led you to believe," Isobel said softly. "She tried to take her own, and the child's, life." There was no need to spell out for Mary what summoning Clarkson would lead to.

Compassion surged through Mary –both for the lost child and for Anna, going through the horror of the attack, the realisation of the pregnancy and the decision that she and the child must die... and going through it all alone. Mary hugged George so tightly to her that the boy let out a howl of protest until Isobel took him from his mother's shaking hands.

"And Anna? How is she?" Mary asked urgently.

"Very weak, but hopefully she'll live," Isobel answered truthfully.

"Can I see her?" Mary reached out hopefully to Isobel, but Isobel shook her head.

"Not today, Mary. She's still very upset, still in pain... and she should be asleep now."

Isobel left the house feeling drained –more by her conversation with Mary than her earlier visit to Anna. Mary had been insistent that she wanted to see Anna, and Isobel mused that the bond between Mary and her ladies maid, always very strong, had only become stronger since George's birth. Anna had been the one at Mary's side that day, the one who had taken George from the room when Robert arrived to give Mary the tragic news. Anna had been the first person Mary asked for as the shock sank in, the one who had sat with Mary as she cried and, from what Isobel had gathered, Anna had spent whole nights in Mary's room as she cried for Matthew. Had they been of equal rank, there would have been nothing strange about Mary's need to see Anna now that Anna was the one in need of comfort... but they weren't. Still, that unconventional bond said a lot of good things about Lady Mary Crawley, in Isobel's opinion.

* * *

Mrs. Hughes appeared in Mary's room to dress her for dinner, and Mary couldn't help but compare her brisk manner unfavourably to Anna's gentle presence –then mentally chastised herself for the thought, reminding herself that Mrs. Hughes' quick thinking had probably saved Anna's life, and prevented the police from being called on her too.

_"__She's the closest thing I have left to a mother,"_ Anna had said once about Mrs. Hughes –something which still puzzled Mary, as to her there was absolutely nothing motherly about Mrs. Hughes.

"When may I visit Anna?" Mary asked abruptly. Not that she intended to take no for an answer, not from Mrs. Hughes, but it couldn't hurt to ask.

"You want to visit Anna?" Mrs. Hughes repeated, and Mary couldn't tell whether it was disdain or surprise on her face.

"Yes, of course," Mary said matter-of-factly.

"Well, why don't we see how she is in a few days' time?" Mrs. Hughes suggested, sure that Lady Mary's sudden wish to see Anna would blow over quickly.

"I suppose that will have to do," Mary lied. She had no intention of waiting a few days to see Anna.

"Mrs. Hughes?" she added as Mrs. Hughes left to see to Lady Rose. "Thank you for not calling Clarkson."

It was such a change from her attitude that morning, and so obviously an admission that she knew, that Mrs. Hughes had to lean against the door when she closed it behind her. It was clear Mrs. Crawley had told her everything... but to have her be so clearly accepting and forgiving? This was certainly not what she would have expected from Lady Mary. Then a long-forgotten conversation with Anna drifted into her mind_. "Lady Mary's actually not as high and mighty as she seems,"_ Anna had smiled once in response to a diatribe of Mrs. Hughes' about Lady Mary's prickly, haughty behaviour.

Well, Mrs. Hughes thought as she set off for Lady Rose's room, evidently Anna had a friend in Lady Mary.

* * *

Bates just could not focus that day, lack of sleep and worry about Anna combining to make his fingers clumsy and his brain heavy. Every so often, a memory of Anna's cries or Anna's drawn face would flash into his mind and his legs would shake until he was grateful for the support afforded by his cane.

"I'm sorry, milord," he apologised as he fumbled, for the third time, His Lordship's tie.

"Is something on your mind, Bates?" Lord Grantham enquired. Such clumsy, absent-minded behaviour was quite unlike his valet.

"Anna's not well, milord," he explained. "I think part of my mind is still with her," he added by way of an apology.

"As it should be," Lord Grantham said. "I'd be the same way if it were Cora."

Bates managed to finish dressing Lord Grantham without any further mishaps, and once His Lordship had gone down to breakfast, set about sorting through the wardrobe and gathering any garments which needed mending. Preferring to avoid company, he settled down in the little dressing room to work on the mending... which he gamely tried to do for the first hour, until the repeated pricking of his finger made him give up rather than risk getting pinpricks of blood on Lord Grantham's pristine cuffs.

His hands itched to open and read Anna's letter to him, but he couldn't. He knew he would most likely find it extremely upsetting, and he would rather be in the privacy of the cottage when he read it, away from prying eyes and where he would have a night ahead to get rid of the redness around his eyes, should he need to.

The rest of his morning passed in a daze –should anyone have asked, he would have been hard-pressed to describe what he had done. The only thoughts he was conscious of were thoughts of Anna, hoping that Mrs. Crawley had been by, that she would survive this ordeal.

"Mr. Bates?" Alfred called cautiously from behind the door. "Are you in here?"

"I am," Bates affirmed, hoping his voice didn't shake when he answered.

"Servants' luncheon is being served in a few minutes," Alfred informed him. Luckily for Bates, he saw no need to open the door to deliver his message. "And Mrs. Hughes would like a word with you."

This last sentence was enough to make Bates grab his cane and hobble downstairs, jelly legs and bloodshot eyes be damned. If Mrs. Hughes wanted to speak to him, it could only be about one thing.

"How is she?" he asked as soon as the door of her sitting room had closed behind him.

"Mrs. Crawley thinks she'll live," Mrs. Hughes said. "You know as well as I do the danger she was in, but we must hope it passes and give her all the time she needs to recover."

"May I see her today?" he asked, hating that he had to ask permission to visit his wife. If it weren't for Anna's weak condition, he might have considered moving her back into the cottage there and then. Although he knew she had moved out out of fear, he would do whatever it took to put those fears to rest –he would sleep on the sofa for full years if that was what Anna needed to heal.

"I suppose you might," Mrs. Hughes agreed. "Maybe you could slip up while the family is at dinner?"

"I will," he said decisively.

"But don't tire her out! She needs rest," Mrs. Hughes worried.

_What does she think I'm going to do to Anna?_ All Bates wanted was to sit next to her, even watching her sleep would be enough.

* * *

_Thanks for all the reviews :)_


	8. Chapter 8

One look at the tender meat, a rare treat, provided for the servants' luncheon, was all it took to turn Bates' stomach. The sight of knives cutting into meat was more than he could watch, bringing unwelcome visions of Anna tearing into her own flesh. Excusing himself hurriedly, he fled to the courtyard for a gasp of fresh air.

When Thomas appeared for a cigarette after his meal, he found Bates sitting hunched on one of the crates.

"Mrs. Hughes sent you this," he said abruptly, handing Bates a round pear. "She said you should eat something, even though you probably haven't a mind to."

Bates nodded his thanks and took the pear, trying to force it down although it tasted like sawdust to him. After a while, he looked up from his lunch to find Thomas watching him curiously.

"Are you sure you're not coming down with whatever Anna's got?" Thomas asked. "You don't look yourself at all, Bates."

"I don't feel myself," he said in a husky voice, but that was about the extent of his and Thomas' ability to be civil to each other. Thomas finished his cigarette and returned indoors for the family's lunch service without another word to Bates, and Bates followed him in when he guessed that most of the servants would have gone about their duties in other parts of the house, wondering how he could make himself appear useful until dinner. It wasn't that he had no work to do –in fact, he had plenty of tasks requiring his attention –but he didn't trust himself to complete them satisfactorily. What he needed was something that required almost no effort or attention... but he doubted he could go into the kitchen and ask Mrs. Patmore if he might spend the afternoon scrubbing pots.

"Mr. Bates, I know you might not feel much like eating," Mrs. Hughes said as he walked back into the servants' hall. "But Anna's going to need you to be strong for her, and berating yourself isn't going to do her any good." She kept her voice low although they were the only people left in there –you never knew who might be passing.

"I'm torn between worrying about her and feeling guilty for not going down with her that night, when I knew she wasn't feeling well," Bates admitted. "Then I start feeling guilty for not guessing what had happened for so long."

"Mr. Bates, I'm as guilty as you are," Mrs. Hughes said. "Guilty for letting her go down to the kitchen alone, and guilty for helping Anna hide it ever since. I'm afraid I owe you an apology for that, though I thought I was doing it for the best –will you forgive me?"

"There is nothing I have to forgive either you or Anna for, Mrs. Hughes," Bates said honestly. "I am the one who needs forgiveness from Anna."

Upon confessing his inability to do any useful work that day to Mrs. Hughes, she had smiled sympathetically at him and installed him in the boot room, "away from prying eyes," she said. Her momentary shudder as she stopped in front of the small room was not lost on him, and he froze, a questioning look on his face and his mind starting to race.

"It's nothing, Mr. Bates," Mrs. Hughes said quickly. "Just a draft." While Bates walked into the room and immediately turned to don an apron, Mrs. Hughes hesitated on the threshold of the room and Bates immediately picked up on it.

"Mrs. Hughes, please don't lie to me." _Again_, the unspoken word lingered between them. "This is –" he gulped and had to take a deep breath to stop the room from spinning around him. "It happened here, didn't it?"

Mrs. Hughes nodded sadly and all of a sudden, Bates' head filled with Anna's screams. _No one could hear her._

"Maybe this was a bad idea," Mrs. Hughes ventured when she saw the faraway look in his eyes. "I'm sure we can find somewhere else for you to work in peace..."

"No, Mrs. Hughes, this is exactly where I need to be," he said, politely but firmly. As soon as she left, he closed the door tightly and leaned against it, waiting for the cries reverberating round his head to die down.

Being in the room now that he knew what had taken place in it was almost torture. He couldn't sit at the table and scrub boots –images of Green pinning Anna down viciously crowded his vision –and when he turned away from the table the same mental images played out on the floor for him. Hurriedly opening the tiny window for some air –he fancied the room needed a good airing –he stood to one side, assessing the room.

Leaving the room while a breeze circulated through, he hurried down the corridor to the cupboard where the maids kept their cleaning supplies, hoping he wouldn't run into anyone as he filled the bucket with water and limped back to the boot room. Fate was kind to him and no one walked past to wonder what the valet was doing with the cleaning supplies. Upon returning to the room, he immediately set to work scrubbing the table, wishing he could go over the whole room with acid to be sure all traces of Green were gone from the room.

The third corner of the table very nearly undid him: he was scrubbing away, not caring that such work could be considered beneath him, when he found a couple of dark, encrusted smears: some on the table, a small runnel down the table leg and small black drops on the floor beneath. It could just as easily be that some careless hall boy had had a minor accident with a tin of blacking, but Bates was suddenly conviced that the stains were Anna's blood, and his own blood began to pound in his ears as he scrubbed frantically, desperate to remove all traces of them.

Once the table was as close to pristine as he could get it, he turned his attention to the rest of the room, dragging all cupoards and racks into the middle of the room and shifting everything around, wanting the room to look completely different from the way it had during the attack. It was hot, dirty work, and his knee was soon protesting against all the lifting, but after four hours, the room had been transformed. The only things still in their original place were those that were nailed to the walls, and he was more than satisfied with his work. _Anna would never recognise it now_.

"You didn't have to do all this!" Mrs. Hughes exclaimed when she looked in just before the servants' dinner, but Bates disagreed. As His Lordship's valet, maybe he didn't have to, but as Anna's husband, he owed it to her to remove as many reminders of the attack as possible.

"I've just been up to check on Anna," Mrs. Hughes said. "She's more comfortable now than she was this morning. And still no fever, thank goodness."

"Thank God," Bates breathed. "Will she –do you think she'll let me see her?"

"I'm sure she will," Mrs. Hughes smiled. Anna's reaction when Mrs. Hughes broached the subject had been one of disbelief: disbelief that Bates, now that he knew everything, still loved her and truly wanted to see her.

_"He's forgiven me?"_ Anna had asked repeatedly, unable to believe that Bates would so easily be able to forgive her the worry and anguish he must have been through the night before.

"That he has," Mrs. Hughes had reassurred her, making sure Anna was comfortable and leaving another dose of painkillers within her reach before leaving to tell Bates that Anna appeared to be stable for now.

* * *

He felt unbelievably nervous during the servants' dinner, almost as though he was going courting for the first time. The worry over Anna's physical condition was abating now that Mrs. Hughes had told him she seemed to be doing well, but the fact that she hadn't mentioned Anna's emotional state was worrying him. He knew Anna had been skittish and sad already, and he could only imagine it had got worse. Although she had willingly clung to his hand, the fact that she had tried to hide her face from him when he first walked in, and frozen when he tried to touch her, was not lost on him. He wondered how much of the old Anna was left.

_She may never be the same again_, he thought before determinedly blocking out that thought_. She'll still be my Anna_, he repeated to himself instead. No matter how long it took –he had meant every word he said to Anna the night before: he didn't care how long it took her to feel ready for intimacy again –he would wait, patiently, for glimpses of the old Anna to reappear. Remembering Mrs. Hughes' words to him about having to be strong for Anna, he forced his dinner down, barely noticing what it tasted like.

"Is that the tray for Anna, Daisy?" Mrs. Hughes asked as Daisy brought a tray into the hall while Ivy began clearing away the plates.

"It is, Mrs. Hughes," Daisy nodded.

"I can take that up," Mr. Bates offered as he stood up, in a tone that brooked no argument. Daisy looked at Mrs. Hughes for confirmation, and the housekeeper nodded.

"That he can," she affirmed. "Just be back in time to see His Lordship to bed," she reminded him in a low voice, although she knew the reminder was unnecessary.

Bates looked at the tray as he began carrying it up the stairs –it would be a strain on his knee, but he could manage –would willingly endure more than pain in his knee for Anna anyway. A couple of slices of bread and a bowl of beef broth: plain food, but nourishing, most likely recommended by Mrs. Crawley. Still, he smiled, a few days of plain meals like this and Anna would be begging for some biscuits or a jam tart –he knew his wife's sweet tooth only too well. Once she was out of all danger and able to eat these simple meals, he decided, he would slip some cake or biscuits up to her too, but not just yet.

He tapped gently on the door of Anna's room with the tip of his shoe since he couldn't put the tray down and called her name softly, hoping she wasn't asleep.

"Anna? Are you awake?"

"I am," she answered, her voice only just audible. "You can come in."

"Thank you," she said softly as he brought the tray in. She had been lying down, but immediately struggled up, wincing only slightly as she moved. "For coming to see me, as well as for the tray, I mean." She couldn't quite meet his gaze, looking at the buttons on his waistcoat as he sat down in the chair next to her bed.

"Did you really think I wouldn't?"

"I wouldn't have blamed you if you didn't want to see me again, not after what I did."

"What kind of husband would that have made me?" he asked, but stopped when he noticed a change in Anna's expression.

"Most husbands wouldn't," she reminded him. "I'm so sorry about this all, John... can you forgive me?"

"My love, there is nothing to forgive," he answered. "You were doing what you thought was right in the circumstances, I cannot fault you for doing what you thought was best. I am the one who should be asking forgiveness."

"You, of all people, are without fault here," Anna retorted, but he cut her off, reaching out a hand tentatively for hers, unable to be so close to her without even a slight touch. He had been prepared for her to draw back, but taking a deep breath, she put her hand slowly in his, although she trembled as his fingers closed around hers.

"None of this would have happened if I had walked downstairs with you that night, that is something I need forgiveness for. I should have noticed something was wrong immediately, should have guessed what it was and been there for you. You shouldn't have had to be alone and in despair last night. Will you ever be able to forgive me those faults?"

"In a heartbeat," she answered softly.

To break the silence that had fallen between them, Bates passed her the tray.

"Eat it while it's still warm," he urged, brushing aside her protest that she wasn't hungry. She picked up the spoon and ate the broth, although she couldn't manage the bread too. While she ate, Bates watched her, taking in every little detail as though he was going to be tested on it later.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, moving the tray out of the way when she finished.

"I'm not in as much pain as I was yesterday," Anna smiled. "That's a blessing."

"Quite a blessing," he agreed. The sight of his wife in that agony was not one he wanted repeated.

Once again, they fell into contemplative silence, Bates hesitant to press on and ask about Anna's emotional state, until it fell to Anna herself to break the silence.

"This feels so strange," she began. "Sitting here with you at a loss for words –it's never happened before." It was true, even during his time in prison they had never been short of words –if anything they had talked even more then, and crammed everything they didn't have time to say into letters.

"I'm afraid of saying something that will upset you further," Bates said. "Mrs. Crawley said you needed time for the mental wounds to heal too, and I'm afraid of reopening them." He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out two slim volumes that he had borrowed from His Lordship's library earlier that day. Anna had always enjoyed him reading to her, and he would prefer reading to her rather than risk saying something clumsy, at least while she was still in such a fragile state.

"I brought these," he offered. "I thought being up here alone with only your thoughts for company might get a bit draining after a while... and maybe if you like, I can read to you now, like we used to before..."

"Before our lives were turned upside down," Anna finished euphemistically. "Thank you," she added gratefully. "My thoughts aren't very good company at the moment," she admitted.

Bates picked up the book at the top of the pile –an anthology of Robert Frost poems –and began to read softly to her, hoping the soothing tone would lull her to sleep.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ Thank you so much for the reviews, it feels great to know people are reading this and feeling for Anna and Bates… all very much appreciated!


	9. Chapter 9

As he read, one eye on the page and one eye on Anna, Bates was relieved to see her start to relax slightly: her shoulders dropped, the lines on her face started to even out and her breathing slowed.

"I must go," he said gently, putting the book down next to her, and was gratified to see a look of disappointment cross her face. "His Lordship will be needing me soon."

"Who's looking after Lady Mary?" she asked.

"Mrs. Hughes is, and she said she'll do it for as long as necessary, so you don't have to worry about that."

"I feel really bad about creating all this extra work," Anna began, but Bates immediately stopped her.

"Anna, you didn't ask for any of this to happen," he reminded her. "All you've done is react to something which was done _to_ you –which should never have happened in the first place."

Leaving Anna to ponder that –there was so much more he needed to say to her, but no time today to say it –he went downstairs to await His Lordship in his dressing room, feeling slightly more at ease now that he had seen Anna himself.

Lord Grantham was quickly readied for bed, and before long Bates was on his way back downstairs, where he found that most of the staff had already retired to bed, though the slightly ajar doors of Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes' sitting rooms indicated that the butler and housekeeper were still inside.

"Mr. Bates," Baxter called when she saw him approaching. "How is Anna?"

"Slightly better, I think," he answered, surprised that she was asking.

"It must be difficult, being away from her while she's ill," Baxter ventured.

"It is," he agreed. "But in a way she's better off here with Mrs. Hughes looking in on her during the day –if she were at the cottage she'd be alone all day."

"I could look in on her too," Baxter offered. "And she doesn't need to worry about Lady Mary –Mrs. Hughes and I will manage Anna's duties until she's back on her feet."

"Thank you, that's very kind of you," Bates said, wondering once again what such a good-hearted woman had in common with Thomas.

"Are you off then, Mr. Bates?" Mrs. Hughes asked, coming out of her sitting room at the light buzz of their voices.

"I am –Anna was almost asleep when I left, so she's most likely asleep by now."

"I hope so," Mrs. Hughes said. "At least while she's asleep, she doesn't have to think about what happened."

Neither of them noticed that Baxter was still within earshot on the stairs as Bates fastened his jacket and prepared to leave.

"I'll look in on her again before I retire and first thing tomorrow," Mrs. Hughes promised. "But Mrs. Crawley thinks that even once she's through the physical ordeal, it will take a lot more time before the memories fade."

"Well, she's been through a war of sorts," Bates agreed, remembering how long it often took soldiers to put the horrors of war behind them. "And like a war, I don't think she'll ever forget,she'll just learn to live with it."

"You're probably right," Mrs. Hughes said. "And Anna's going to need you now more than ever. But I shouldn't keep you here with chatter –you've been up for well over 2 days now." They moved closer to the door, leaving Baxter wondering what had happened to Anna. Although in her few weeks at the Abbey, she had only known Anna to be reserved and quiet, she had nevertheless always been kind to Baxter –and Baxter had overheard the other servants commenting on the sudden change in Anna's usually sunny disposition. Even Thomas didn't seem to have any animosity towards the younger ladies' maid, which made Baxter think Anna must have been truly special to be so well-thought of by everyone –including Thomas –and that the withdrawal and sadness Anna was exhibiting now was anything but her usual self.

* * *

The walk back to the cottage in the dark was when Bates most missed Anna –that, and when he was lying in bed alone. The walk to the Abbey in the morning was bearable because then he could at least look forward to seeing Anna, but the walk back was almost more painful than he could bear. Walking down the path alone, all he could think of was that when Anna had been with him, this walk meant that their workday was over and their time alone together was about to begin. Ever since Anna had moved back into the Abbey, however, all Bates had to look forward to was a cold, dark cottage and an even colder, lonely bed.

He had thought that knowing the reason why she had left would make it more bearable, but now that he knew, it was even more painful to bear. Anything would have been more bearable than the knowledge he now had –the knowledge that Anna, his precious wife, had been attacked and moved out because of shame and fear.

Picking his way carefully with his cane, he finally reached the door of the cottage –was it only his imagination, or did the walk back to the cottage (he couldn't refer to it, even in his mind as "_home_" without Anna) seem longer now that he was walking it alone?

Lighting the oil lamp, he made straight for the bathroom for a quick sponge-bath and to get out of his now-filthy clothes. The pitcher of water he drew was frigid, but he barely noticed in his hurry to change into his nightclothes and sit down with Anna's letter.

_Dear John_

_I am so sorry for my behaviour towards you over the past few weeks, but I hope once you read this you will understand and someday be able to forgive me. _

_Something happened during Dame Nellie's concert at the house party that I couldn't tell you –not because I was afraid you wouldn't believe me, but because I knew you would, and would immediately seek revenge... and I couldn't bear to lose you again._

_When I went down to the kitchen for a powder, a man followed me down and attacked me... I think you will understand it all when I tell you I am now with child as a result of it. I cannot bring a child born of such violence into the world, neither can I expect you to raise it as your own –and I cannot lie to you about it, which is why I have chosen this path. I am sorry for so many things I have done: leading you to believe I have turned against you, lying to you, but most of all I am sorry for not saying goodbye to you properly._

_I love you, that has never changed._

_Yours forever,_

_Anna_

Although it told him nothing that he had not already been told in person by now, reading Anna's explanation hurt more than Bates had expected. Even in the letter, he noticed, she hadn't named the attacker –not that it took any great intelligence to work out that it had been Green.

Seek revenge? He certainly would! Anna knew him well enough to know that he would want to kill the man who had hurt his wife... and _hurt_ seemed such a small, insignificant word to describe what Green had done to Anna. He wouldn't mention any of it to Anna, of course, but Bates would be damned if Green thought he was going to get away with it.

Now that he had more than a moment to himself and absolute privacy to cry if he needed it, Bates found that he _couldn't_ cry. A lump formed in his throat, one that made it hard to swallow, but the tears just would not come. Instead, he felt horribly empty, like there was a void in him –one that he knew only Anna's presence could fill: Anna as she had been, not the shell of Anna that Green had left behind. Bates knew there was a chance Anna would never recover fully from this horror: while he had been imprisoned for Vera's death, he had seen many former soldiers there who, even years after their war, woke up crying out, convinced they were reliving the horror; men who still spun around at the slightest sound, convinced the enemy had found them.

No, Bates knew it would take time for Anna to move past the sceptre of Green... if she ever did. Part of Bates was also worried that Anna would make another attempt on her life. Maybe not now, but what if she eventually decided that she couldn't face living day after day with the memories of the assault?

Looking back at Anna's letter, he wondered what he would have done if Anna had indeed bled out as she had intended, before he had been given the letter. There was no doubt in his mind that he would have found and killed Green and happily swung for it, if only so that he could rejoin Anna in another life. Receiving this letter of apology when Anna was no longer alive so that he could reassure her there was no need to apologise at all would have killed him... although, if he was being honest with himself, any scenario in which Anna was dead and he was alive would be one he couldn't bear.


	10. Chapter 10

"How's Anna this morning?" Bates asked as soon as he entered the servants' hall the next morning –even before he had fully removed his hat and coat. He had fallen into a deep and thankfully dreamless sleep after reading Anna's letter and felt slightly better for it.

"I'm not sure," Mrs. Hughes admitted, leading him into her sitting room where they had a lower chance of being overheard.

"What do you mean?" Bates asked, his heart beating faster at her words. "What's wrong with her?"

"She seems as if she might have a touch of fever," Mrs. Hughes said. "Mrs. Crawley should be over soon, and I'm hoping she'll tell me it's nothing."

"May I go up to see her?" Bates asked, trying to keep the pleading note out of his voice. He knew he had no business being in the maids' quarters, but he couldn't go about his day without having seen Anna, not after this bombshell that Mrs. Hughes had given him.

"I thought you might want to," Mrs. Hughes agreed. "Go on up, I'll cover for you with Mr. Carson –but you'll have to be quick."

Taking the stairs as fast as his cane would allow him, he made his way up to Anna's room, not meeting anyone on his way –except for Baxter, who, to her credit, didn't bat an eyelid at seeing Bates in the female quarters.

Anna barely raised her head when he opened the door. Approaching the bed, he could see that her face, slightly flushed, was scrunched up in pain.

"Anna, what's wrong?" he asked, trying not to panic for fear of agitating her.

"It hurts," she managed to say before grimacing again. Hurriedly, Bates tipped one pill from each of the bottles next to the bed into his palm before handing them to Anna.

"Swallow these," he said, gently helping her to sit up before pouring her a fresh glass of water. It was an effort for her to swallow, he could see that, and he immediately helped her to lie back down. Her skin felt hot under his touch but she shivered as he drew the blanket over her.

"Anna, please don't give up," he begged. "I need you." He had realised the night before that he was nothing –absolutely nothing –without her. "If you die, I will follow." She didn't hear him –she had already dropped into an uneasy sleep –or at least, he hoped it was sleep and not another loss of consciousness.

Lord Grantham was already in his dressing room when Bates entered to dress him, and it took all Bates' concentration to get him into his clothes without any mishaps. When His Lordship went down to breakfast, Bates began to put the room in order and gathered all the garments from the past 2 days which needed laundering. His mind was even further from his work than it had been the day before, but work was piling up which had to be done soon.

On his way to the laundry wing, Bates went down the adjoining staircase to the servants' hall to find Mrs. Hughes.

"She doesn't look at all well," he said, hoping the housekeeper could somehow put his mind at rest –but Mrs. Hughes was just as worried.

"Mrs. Crawley will be by later, let's not worry before she tells us we have due cause to."

"What if it is... beyond Mrs. Crawley's capabilities?"

"Then we'll have to weigh up the risk of summoning Dr. Clarkson," Mrs. Hughes sighed. "As her husband, I think that decision should be yours to make."

"Will you call me when Mrs. Crawley arrives?" Bates asked. "I'll be in the laundry wing all morning."

"I will," Mrs. Hughes promised. "And Mr. Bates, try not to worry yet. Anna's a fighter, you know that."

"_Was_ a fighter," Bates corrected as he limped off. "I think that after that animal Green, she may have lost the will to fight."

Sadly, Mrs. Hughes thought he might be right. Asking Jimmy and Alfred to call her as soon as Mrs. Crawley arrived, she went back to her sitting room to work on that week's grocery orders. As she worked, she realised that she hadn't told Mr. Bates that Lady Mary had been asking about Anna again.

It had been the first thing Lady Mary had asked her as soon as she had entered her bedroom to find her sitting up in bed.

"Anna?" Out of Lady Mary's mouth, it sounded more like a command than a question.

"Running a slight fever," Mrs. Hughes had to admit. "Mrs. Crawley will be by later to see her."

"Can I see her? What can I do to help?"

"It's Mrs. Crawley you'll have to ask," Mrs. Hughes said, knowing it was not her place to tell Lady Mary what she could and could not do. "But keeping Anna's secret is all we can do for now."

"Of course I will," Lady Mary agreed. "God knows Anna's kept secrets of mine."

She ate her breakfast silently, missing the easy chatter she and Anna used to keep up.

"Who was it? The attacker?"

Mrs. Hughes, taken aback, didn't answer for a second.

"I mean," Lady Mary amended, "it wasn't one of our servants, was it?" She couldn't bear the thought that Anna had had to live and work side by side with her assailant.

"No," Mrs. Hughes confirmed, grateful that Lady Mary wasn't insisting on being told Green's identity. "It was not."

"That's a relief," Mary sighed as Mrs. Hughes left the room.

* * *

"Mr. Bates?" Jimmy called, sticking his head into the laundry room where Bates was brushing Lord Grantham's tailcoat. "Mrs. Hughes sent me for you."

"Thank you, Jimmy," Bates said, dropping the brush immediately. "Did she say where I could find her?"

"Only that Mrs. Crawley's arrived,"the young footman shrugged.

Not bothering to go back down to the servants' hall, Bates went immediately to the staircase leading up to the maids' quarters, only realising when he was halfway up them that he'd forgotten his jacket in the laundry room –but didn't bother going back for it. It wasn't likely that he'd run into anyone who would take offence at seeing him in his shirtsleeves.

He cautiously pushed open the door of Anna's room, where he found Mrs. Hughes standing beside the door, her face drawn, while Mrs. Crawley examined Anna.

"Please tell me it's not bad news," he said warily as he helped Anna straighten her nightgown and sit up, noting that her skin was still a couple of shades too warm.

"It's certainly not good news, but not necessarily as bad as you're dreading," Mrs. Crawley answered. "The punctures appear to be healing but there may be some infection, which is what these –" she tapped one of the pill bottles –"are for."

"Will they be enough to stop the infection spreading?" Bates asked.

"Let's hope so. So far I'm not worried that we'll need to call Clarkson in though."

"And if you think it's gone beyond what we can do here?"

"Then I will leave the decision in your hands, as Anna's husband. But with the way things stand, I wouldn't call him yet... if Anna starts bleeding again, or if the fever doesn't break, then it might be a different matter though."

Someone tapped on the door and Bates and Mrs. Crawley spun around guiltily as Mrs. Hughes opened it.

"Sorry to disturb you," Baxter said apologetically. "But Mr. Carson's looking for you, Mrs. Hughes –something about the supply cupboard."

"I'm coming," Mrs. Hughes said, as Baxter's eyes went to Anna, flushed and so obviously ill and in pain.

"You can go now," Mrs. Crawley offered. "I'd like a word with Bates, anyway."

Bates looked at Mrs. Crawley cautiously –whatever could she want with him?

"This is a somewhat awkward topic to bring up," she began as Bates moved closer to Anna. "But I feel I should warn you..."

"If this is about –" Bates cleared his throat "marital relations, there's no need to say any more, Mrs. Crawley. I'll wait however long it takes for Anna to be physically and emotionally ready." He smiled encouragingly at Anna, who had opened her eyes and was watching them.

"No, no, it's not that," Mrs. Crawley said. "I know you both may have wanted children, but I should warn you that after this, going through pregnancy and childbirth could be very dangerous for Anna."

"I understand," Bates nodded, and though he was disappointed to have all hopes of a child taken away, he wouldn't deliberately jeopardise Anna's life –not now that he had realised he was nothing without her by his side.

"I mean it," he murmured to Anna once Mrs. Crawley had gone, promising to return the next day if they didn't send word that she was needed before then. "I'm not going to force you into anything... and I'd rather have no children than risk your life." Although he couldn't be certain, he thought he saw a flash of relief in Anna's eyes.

"I shouldn't be wasting your time –you should be working," Anna murmured.

"Lord Grantham's tailcoat can wait until I'm sure your mind is at rest," he shrugged. "Anna, your comfort and safety is the priority here."

"Thank you," she smiled at him.

"I love you," he smiled at her, reaching cautiously towards her, giving her time to indicate whether she was alright with the contact. Carefully, she brought her hands out to meet his and indicated that he could sit on the side of the bed next to her.

"May I hold you?" he asked in a low voice, and she nodded. As his arms curled around her, he realised that she had started crying again.

"_Why me_?" he thought he heard her choke out.

Sitting there, holding tightly to the wife he had come so close to losing –and might still lose –the tears he hadn't been able to cry the night before all welled up, until it wasn't clear to him who was consoling whom.


End file.
